Facts of Fiction
by Red Raider
Summary: To restore the Authors Guild, Edmund Cartwright publishes a book called The Lord of the Rings, which proves to be an instant hit. However the citizens of Ankh Morpork struggle between fact and fiction, two worlds start colliding and only one can survive!
1. Chapter 1

It is fair to say that the Author's Guild, now situated in the Shades of Ankh-Morpork, had seen better days. Ever since those darn moving pictures had appeared the popularity of the written text had dropped. Indeed, why use your own imagination when you can use someone else's?

At first, Edmund Cartwright relished the new competition. He believed that it would add some excitement to the Author's Guild, a little risk never hurt anyone. Except it did. It was as if the moving pictures had slapped the authors in the face and then, to add insult to injury, thrown it to the dark and dingy depths of the Shades. Never before had a guild been so humiliated.

Although, Edmund's love for the written word was a flame that could not be extinguished. He was able to set up a small office above the inn, The Lonely Bones, in the Shades. It was not much to look at, indeed it was rather uncomfortable to look at. Originally used as a single bedroom, Edmund had convinced the landlord to throw out the old bed and fit a desk into the center of the room. This however meant that the already small room became a whole lot smaller. Books of records piled high on the desk, parchments of potential books were piled elsewhere – anywhere they could be piled. From here Edmund worked night and day and hour by hour, working tirelessly to restore the written word to it's former glory.

The phrase 'easier said than done' is most suitable for Edmund's task.

It was a dark night when Mr Toddkins arrived at The Lonely Bones, with the intention of pitching his story to the only publisher within a thousand miles. The clouds were particularly dark and sad, casting a shadow over the entire city. This was all very well for The Lonely Bones landlord since his customers were reluctant to step out of the safe light and into the dangerous darkness to go home. After all was said and done, the dark and cold outside was a good enough reason to continue drinking.

The night's drinking and making merry was well under way when a short, plump man, around his mid-forties, stepped into the inn. His face was red and round; red because of the bitter cold and round because this man found it difficult to say no to seconds. His hair was a tangled, ginger mess and his shaving skills left much to be desired. And yet the man's eyes had a creative sparkle about them, one could immediately tell that this man was gifted with wit and wisdom. In any other society this man would be looked up to as an educated and proper person. In Ankh-Morpork however this creative and educated man only had one choice to make – con or be conned.

I feel that I should explain this description a little to you. I have given you his facial structure and the manner of his presence first only because I hold your attention for now. However, now that I have conveyed what I needed to convey, the time is now right for me to reveal the dress that the man chose to adopt for the night in question. Most citizens of Ankh-Morpork would dress themselves in proper and respectable clothing, in accordance with their social class. For example, a wizard would wear robes and a pointy hat whilst a beggar would dress in dirty rags. A wizard would not be seen dead in the rags of a beggar, likewise a beggar would rather take a swim in the Ankh (or at least try to) than dress in the robes of a wizard. Although the dress that Mr Toddkins adopted for this night can only be described as... absent... completely absent.

Such was the shock of this that it did not quite settle in the minds of the drinkers, not least because it put half the inn to shame... the other half were women. The complete absurdity and wrongness of appearing in an Ankh Morpork inn completely nude was unheard of. Such an event would spread like wild fire across the entire city and The Lonely Bones would forever be remembered as 'that pub with no clothes'. The landlord, his name being Mr Briggs, could not have this bad reputation starting for the sake of business.

"My God!" Mr Briggs called out, making sure he was heard across the entire inn, "That man has three legs!"

A moment of silence. Everyone knew it was a lie, everyone knew what was really going on. But in a city like Ankh Morpork an odd chap with a third leg, though itself looked down upon, was much preferred to a man who let it all hang out... especially for Mr Toddkins. And so the crowd in the inn nodded in agreement, some sighed and a few chuckled but all in all they were in agreement that this new arrival had three legs and a small satchel. Mr Toddkins seemed unaware of the fuss he had caused and approached the bar, Mr Briggs was still red in the face.

"How may I... serve you?" Mr Briggs inquired.

"Am I too assume that this is the Ankh Morpork Guild for Authors?" Mr Toddkins inquired back.

"What? No, no, this is the Lonely Bones inn. Edmund's upstairs, I mean, the Author's Guild is upstairs."

"Thank you." With that Mr Toddkins left for the stairs, Mr Briggs called after him.

"Room Thirteen!"

Edmund sat at his desk, trying to work out how to market a potential new book called 'The Downside of Richness'. It was a book, written by a chap from the Jester's Guild arguing that being rich and happy was not all it was cracked up to be. Still, Edmund would rather be doing that than reading the latest manuscript sent to him. It had arrived a few days ago... on the back of a donkey cart. Edmund wondered whether all the books he had so far published amounted to the text that this one story offered him. And then came a sharp knocking at the door.

"Come in," Edmund sighed, it was probably some drunk got lost on his way to the privy.

In stepped Mr Toddkins and, just as before, Edmund was left speechless for rather obvious reasons.

"Greetings, my name is Mr Toddkins and I have come about my manuscript," Mr Toddkins held out a hand in a kind gesture, as if everything was where it should be. At this point Edmund gathered his wits and came to the conclusion that this was some drunk who, by no fault of his own, had lost his clothes.

"Err, manuscript?" Edmund pondered how to deal with this, without intending to he began to talk as if he were talking to a child, "I think you left it downstairs... where are your clothes?"

"I beg your pardon, I did not leave my manuscript downstairs."

"Look, I haven't got time for this, go back downstairs or better yet go home and sober up."

"You misunderstand me, sir, I have come about my manuscript, not to drink"

"Oh, really," It had been a long night, they all were, and Edmund grew tired of this drunk, "Name?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Your name? What is your name? So that I may locate your manuscript."

"My name is Mr Toddkins."

Edmund instantly recognized the name, the large manuscript was written by a Mr Toddkins. This was getting better and better, it appeared that Mr Toddkins was no drunk and was genuinely here to discuss his manuscript.

"You," Edmund sighed, "You wrote all this?"

"Indeed."

"How long did it take you?"

"Over three years."

"Three years?"

"Non-stop."

"How?" Edmund couldn't quite believe this.

"I shall start at the beginning," Mr Toddkins breathed in, and then began, "It was just over three years ago that I concluded the tales and books of heroes and adventuring had grown rather thin. I took it upon myself to write an adventure so great it would attract every capable reader in the lands. For this I needed total harmony, so I journeyed into the forests and lived with Mother Nature-"

"Is that why you're..." Edmund whispered, "Without clothes?"

"Correct, I did not wear clothing in the forests, this helped me focus on nature."

"So, why are you still naked?"

"I must confess, I've grown rather fond of it."

"Well, the rest of us haven't so put this on."

Edmund threw a poncho to Mr Toddkins who accepted that clothing was suitable at this point.

"Anyway, I have spent three years writing this text and I believe I have written the greatest story in the universe."

"Oh really, and what do you call it?"

"I call it," Mr Toddkins pride was obvious, "Adventure Tale!"

Edmund pondered, he pondered a lot, the story had better be far better than the title, that was for sure. Then again, a story like this would attract the public eye. The manner in which it had been would attract interest at the very least and might put books back in the spot light. Maybe not permanently but it would provide the opportunity to attract new readers and, more importantly, more authors! Edmund made up his mind.

"I accept." Edmund smiled, shaking Mr Toddkins' hand.

"You do? Oh, wonderful, wonderful!"

"I'll need to take your details." Edmund prepared a formal contract.

"Certainly."

"Your name?"

"Mr Toddkins."

"No, no, your full name."

"Oh, well, my second name is Toddkins."

"And you're first?" Edmund noticed that Mr Toddkins had gone all shy at this point, "I need your first name."

"It's... Jrr."

"What? Ger? How do you spell that?"

"J-R-R, it's pronounced Ger as in 'germ'."

"What an odd name, if you don't mind me saying so."

"My parents were not the best spellers, I believe they wanted to call me Jeremy however they got a bit confused and gave up." Mr Toddkins said.

"Well then, Mr Jrr Toddkins, how about that title for your story?"

"Adventure Tale."

"Hmm, not very catchy is it, a bit plain, if you ask me."

"Oh, well, I had another title that I thought of using."

"What is it?"

"The Lord of the Rings."

"Perfect."

Both Edmund and Mr Toddkins had the feeling that something very, very special had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

Three years later...

The success of The Lord of the Rings could not be measured. Every time Edmund came to a conclusion as to how successful it had been, the book would sell another million copies and become even more successful. It was the miracle that Edmund had prayed for, a dream come true. It has to be said that Edmund had only intended The Lord of the Rings as a publicity stunt, but it had become so much more. Everyone who could read loved the book, and those who could not read had it read to them and they loved it as well. The book was considerably large and heavy, requiring at least two to carry it, although it was even larger in popularity and, as Edmund frequently pointed out, the book had become far more popular and profitable than any Moving Picture.

In fact, several Moving Pictures studios had approached Edmund with the intention of securing the necessary rights to make a Moving Picture adaptation of the Lord of the Rings. Edmund laughed at this and would say to each and every one of them.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Laughing as he spoke, "The Lord of the Rings is far too massive and popular, a Moving Picture would not be able to do it justice!"

Mr Toddkins had since become Edmund's partner as Head Publisher's of the new and improved Author's Guild. They had moved from the small and smelly office above the Lonely Bones into a grand and luxurious mansion, right in the center of Ankh Morpork. Every day crowds converged on the guild, trying to get their own stories published. Edmund and Mr Toddkins published only the best, but none compared to The Lord of the Rings. Life was good... The Lord of the Rings was better.

Meanwhile...

The Unseen University's Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography was, at this point, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a rather large, grass-covered open space, which itself was in the middle of a rather larger forest. He was a tall, thin and scrawny young chap, or at least young for a wizard. Just like every respectable wizard on the Disc, this one had a beard. Unlike every respectable wizard on the Disc, this beard was untidy and slightly misshapen. His dirty, ginger hair went with his dark red, hooded robe, not least because the robe was just as dirty. Every wizard required a hat and the Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography was no exception, after all, a wizard and his hat is like a baby and it's dummy – it keeps them happy and it keeps them quiet. The hat was dark red just like the wizard's robes, and it had clearly seen better days. It was floppy at the bottom and battered at the top. Across the front of the hat were large, silver letters spelling out 'WIZZARD' and, oddly enough, this reflected it's owner quite well – it failed, but not for lack of trying. The wizard's name was Rincewind, and he was currently in the pursuit of total harmony.

Just like everyone else, Rincewind was a fan of The Lord of the Rings. This shouldn't be strange at all, except Rincewind was a wizard and the wizards did not like the book. Ridcully, the Archchancellor of the Unseen University, said that The Lord of the Rings was a "mis-guided and mis-leading representation of adventuring and life in general". However it was commonly known, but never talked of, that the wizards from the book were a hell of a lot better than the wizards currently residing in the Unseen University. Gandalf the Grey demanded respect and had wisdom that could only be measured with... a wisdom measuring thing... and a very good one at that. Saruman was all powerful and mighty, his presence was enough to turn the heartiest hero into a whimpering puddle of jelly. And the Unseen University? Well, the Unseen University had an Archchancellor called Ridcully... sounds rather similar to ridiculous and compared to The Lord of the Rings, they were.

Rincewind however, did not care for this. He did not allow himself to be swallowed up by jealousy and refrained from lowering himself to ridiculing the book (ridicule, another word that sounds like Ridcully). Instead, Rincewind ventured forth into the land of Middle-Earth. He joined Frodo in his quest to destroy the One Ring. He fought to save the people of Rohan at the Battle of Helm's Deep. He snapped the book shut when a Ringwraith appeared, he would then rather sheepishly open the book again and continue, feeling all the more foolish for it. But what Rincewind really liked about The Lord of the Rings is that he could fight evil and feel like a hero, and all without having to go through the sticky business of 'life or death' situations. Instead of running for his life, living in hell and flying impossible dragons, Rincewind could relax in his super-heated office with the added perk of a well-stocked fireplace.

After reading the book for the seventh time, Rincewind found himself pondering how a book so magnificent could have ever been written in the first place. After it hit the shelves and became the Disc-wide success that it currently is, suspicions were most certainly raised. The book had undergone every magical test known to the wizards, proved innocent to all the witches' spells and potions and, most convincing of all, had been accepted by the librarian of the Unseen University – and he doesn't just let any old tat into his library.

Rincewind did not believe that The Lord of the Rings was created by magical and devious methods. He believed that the book was the product of simple, honest hard work. Naturally the wizards at the university all thought he was a bit odd for thinking this, but then again, they always thought Rincewind was a little too odd, or perhaps not odd enough. They all said that Rincewind had been brainwashed by Mr Toddkins.

The night that Rincewind met Mr Toddkins was in no way an interesting or particularly special night. The stars had come out and sparkled as they did every other night and the drunks were all busy drinking their sorrows away because, after all, they had a reputation to uphold. Rincewind had been enjoying a quiet drink in The Broken Drum when a short, plum man had chosen to take a seat at his table. This was most peculiar because not only had the man not asked to join Rincewind's small table, but the man was also wearing nothing but a large poncho.

"Excuse me," Rincewind had began.

"Yes," Mr Toddkins had replied.

"I can't say that I recognize you so I presume you are fairly new here-"

"Not really," Mr Toddkins interrupted, "I've lived here nearly three years now."

"Really? But, I have not seen you in here before."

"I must admit, this is the first time I have come into an inn since..."

"Since when?" Rincewind found himself intrigued.

"The Lonely Bones, I went there on my first night in the city."

"The Lonely Bones?" Rincewind was rather taken aback by this, "What were you doing there?"

"It was a business visit," Mr Toddkins said, "At the time the Author's Guild was in an office above the inn."

"The Author's Guild?" And suddenly it dawned on Rincewind, "Wait... Are you?... Yes... You are... You're Jrr Toddkins!"

"Yes, yes, I am," Mr Toddkins tried to hush him, so as not to draw attention to himself, "And if you would kindly lower your voice, I would like to enjoy my drink here."

Rincewind had lowered his voice, but he did not hold it and did not even try. I am afraid to say that Mr Toddkin's planned night of a peaceful, quiet drink was ruined by a rather awkward and odd-looking fan. It was on this night that Mr Toddkins revealed his secret behind The Lord of the Rings, and it was all too simple. Total harmony. Be at peace with your mind and your mind's potential is limitless.

And here we arrive back at Rincewind who, sitting cross-legged in a grassy open patch in the middle of a forest, was in the pursuit of total harmony. Unknown to him, he was being watched. An elderly man with a grey beard, a grey robe and a grey pointed hat approached Rincewind from the denseness of the forest trees. The elderly man was undoubtedly a wizard. His presence demanded respect and his wisdom was so vast that it could only be measured by a... wisdom measuring thing...

...and a thumping good one at that...


	3. Chapter 3

Great A'Tuin, the ten-thousand-mile long star turtle, was undergoing a rather unpleasant and unexpected experience. It is well known, by those who know, that A'Tuin holds on top of it's back four elephants of a similarly large nature. It is also common knowledge that on top of these four elephants rests the Disc itself, at least, it is common knowledge for those who have acquired said knowledge. Great A'Tuin is also almost as big as the Disc that it carries, or at least it was...

The star turtle had grown rather accustomed to having four elephants and an entire world on top of it's back. In fact, A'Tuin had grown rather fond of them. But something was going on... up there and, due to the turtle's positioning and possible head movement, A'Tuin was not quite sure what. He/she guessed that it was that pesky flat thing on it's back again. Every now and then something would explode or fall off and it would prove very distracting and rather alarming. But this was different, it felt like that pesky, troublesome flat thing was getting... bigger.

It was most uncomfortable and quite out of the ordinary, but A'Tuin was sure of it and his fears were soon confirmed. For the first time, A'Tuin saw that pesky flat thing. It had grown outwards. It had grown outwards so far that it had entered A'Tuin's line of sight. It was strange, and A'Tuin didn't like it... he/she didn't like it one bit.

The first thing that came into Rincewind's mind was this – loony. And who can blame him? Here, standing in front of him, was a man dressed as a fictional character from a fictional book. This would be quite acceptable, if they were standing in the middle of a fancy dress party. If that were the case then Rincewind would be the one standing out and looking like a fool. But this was not in the middle of a fancy dress party, this was in the middle of rather large forest.

"Who?" Rincewind began, "Who are you?"

"I could ask you the same question," The man replied, his voice was pitch-perfect for the character that he had chosen to dress as.

"No, I asked you first," Rincewind argued, getting ready to run, "That means you have to answer my question first."

"If that is the case," The man argued back, "Then you must solemnly swear that you will answer my question, after I have answered yours."

"I swear," Rincewind lied.

"Very well, I am Gandalf... Gandalf the Grey."

Rincewind had run through many forests, this one was a particularly nice one. It's soft grass cushioned the thumping feet and there were no dangling weeds in which to get caught up in. Even the trees seemed to make a path for him...

Just as Rincewind began appreciating the physical pleasure of running away in this forest, that strange old man appeared again... Wait a minute...

"What!? How!? How the...!? Where!?!... Oh..." As you may already have guessed, this was Rincewind's exclamation of terror and not Gandalf's.

"My dear lad," Gandalf calmly began, "I do not appreciate your actions, you gave me your word."

"Yes," Rincewind was stunned, "Yes I did, but you... you lied."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did."

"I did not."

"Did."

"Didn't."

"You can't be Gandalf!"

"And why is that?" Gandalf wasn't sure who this strange chap was, but something was definitely wrong.

"Gandalf is made up," Rincewind blurted out, "Fictional... Not real... You're just some lunatic with a big staff... OH!"

It was at this point that Rincewind noticed the big staff. It was a grand and might staff, wooden but made to perfection. It was a staff fit only the grandest of wizards. And it was at this point that a thought crept into Rincewind's head, or rather a troublesome question. How did a lunatic get such a good staff?... unless...

"I am Gandalf," Gandalf exclaimed, "You are a fool."

"Prove it!" The words had escaped Rincewind's mouth before he knew what he was saying, and he immediately regretted saying them.

Gandalf, who felt he must prove to this strange fellow that he was who said he was, obliged. Rincewind watched as Gandalf raised his staff above his head and light shone from him and the staff. It was an impressive display of magic, even more impressive because there was no fizzle or disappointing ball of light flying off in a random direction. The magic was controlled and powerful, Rincewind didn't have to be told this, he could feel the power of this magic.

Gandalf lowered his staff and his display, surely that would prove to the fellow that he was who he said he was. How many others can perform magic like that? But to his surprise, the strange fellow had disappeared... again.

There was no point in waiting around, Rincewind knew exactly who that man was. He wasn't just a loony, he was a loony who could do magic which is a lot, lot worse. And so once again Rincewind found himself racing through the forest, blundering over the soft grass and running straight back home. This seemed odd, in a deep and dense forest Rincewind had not once had to dodge a tree branch or turn a sharp corner to avoid a tree altogether. And suddenly he realised, it really was as if the trees were making a path for him.

No sooner had he come to that conclusion when a large, creaking branch swooped down and picked Rincewind straight up. The tree then slowly stood up and started walking! It had two legs. It had two arms. It's face was imprinted on the thick trunk of the tree and at the top was a collection of leaves, just to complete the image of man/tree.

"Help!" Rincewind squealed, "Help! Help me!"

The tree looked at this red, wriggling little fellow. It wondered who he was and why he was so squeamish towards him. Although questions of that nature were better asked when everyone was calm and composed. Better yet, he would leave the questioning to Gandalf, he would know the right questions to ask.

Rincewind was dropped to the ground and, despite the soft grass, the landing was hard and painful. In front of him was Gandalf... or at least he called himself Gandalf. And the walking tree... Treebeard! Rincewind made the connection, he spun around and stared straight into the face of the walking tree. Yes, who else could it be? There were no other walking trees in this forest, not that he had heard of anyway.

"Ah," Gandalf mused, "Thank you, Treebeard."

"Who..." Treebeard began, in his deep voice, "Is... this?"

"I was just about to ask the same question myself."

Rincewind looked around him, running away was now out of the question since Treebeard... No! There is no such thing as Treebeard, the walking tree would catch him anyway.

"Your name?" Gandalf pressed.

"Rin... Rince... Rincewind." Rincewind gave up.

"Rincewind, what a funny name?"

"I... do not... know... of a... Rince... wind."

"I don't suppose you have," Rincewind said, "I'm a nobody, very unimportant, there is no reason for you to hurt me or hold me ransom."

"Hold you ransom?"

"No one would pay anyway, in fact, they'd probably tell you to keep me. You may as well just let me go."

"My dear lad, we are not your enemies," Gandalf smiled, "In fact, I was rather hoping you could help us."

"Us?"

"Yes, myself and Treebeard."

"Help? What help?" Rincewind said, "You need directions?"

"Sort of," Gandalf replied, "I was wondering, where are we?"

"Where are you?"

"Yes."

"..." Rincewind was stunned, "You're in a forest, where does it look like? Death's house?"

"Well, I know this a forest," Gandalf sighed, "But what forest? It is not Fangorn, for I know Fangorn Forest and this is not it."

"Fangorn Forest?"

"Yes, we were in Fangorn a moment ago, although we now find ourselves in a completely different forest."

"There is no such forest as Fangorn Forest!" Rincewind was getting a little tired of this now, "You aren't Gandalf! He isn't Treebeard! This is a forest! You are a loony! And that... that is a tree who does not know it's place in the Disc!"

Treebeard was rather offended by this however Gandalf stopped him replying. The grey wizard's suspicions were proven correct, there were no longer in Middle Earth.

"Disc?" Gandalf questioned, "What is the Disc?"

"It's... it's this... this world that you live in!" Rincewind shouted.

"We do not live here, you may live here however we do not."

"Don't tell me," Rincewind sighed, "You live in Middle Earth."

"How? How did you know that?" Gandalf was confused, and that did not happen very often. How could this person know of Middle Earth when he knew nothing of this new world, apparently called the Disc?

"What do you mean? How do I know?" Rincewind groaned, "I can't imagine you have never heard of The Lord of the Rings, dressed as you are and all."

"The Lord of the... Rings," Gandalf didn't like this, this situation was getting worse by the minute, "What do you know of the Rings? What do you know of the One Ring!?"

"Just drop the act, it's getting pretty sad."

"WHAT IS THE LORD OF THE RINGS!?!"

The voice was an echoing command, and one that Rincewind was not willing to disobey. And that was when Rincewind looked into the eyes of this old man, I mean really looked. One can glance into someone's eyes and see nothing but two eyeballs. However if you focus on someone's eyes, you can see who they really are... and Rincewind now knew who this old man really was. He knew there was no lie. He knew there was no insanity. This man was genuine, and so was his walking tree...

Rincewind had met Gandalf...


End file.
